“Can we come in?” Roman says, saving me from saying any more.
“Of course.” Felicity waves us inside.
The large living space has a tall, perfected Christmas tree, a fireplace, and two plush couches positioned about the room as if the space might end up in a magazine or online. It has all the amenities as our living room back in Tesoro, only ours could fit inside this room four times.
I draw a little nearer to my husband, which might be breaking all the “no hugging” rules I just claimed to.
“Mason!” Felicity calls, and a boy with bright orange hair comes scuttling out from the hall. He walks side to side, his hands pinched like claws. “Baby, go grab Daddy. Tell him we have very special visitors.”
Roman’s hand in mine tightens. This is his brother.
“Very special visitors!” Mason repeats, and he sidesteps and scuttles away.
“He walks like a crab wherever he goes,” Felicity says. “The boy loves the ocean and anything related.”
Roman glances at me, lifting his brows, and I know whathe’s thinking, what he’s silently asking.Do you think this boy walking around like a crab will like a soccer ball?
“That’s …” I say, but I’ve drawn the word out too long. “Cute. So cute. He’s?—”
“Cute,” Roman says, completing my sentence.
Silence fills the space, and I’m so tempted to tell Felicity howcuteher Christmas tree is. Howcutethis house is. Howcuteshe is. It’s the only conversation that comes to mind. I’ve decided I am nervous for Roman. He doesn’t need to be because I’ve got the nerves covered for both of us.
“Let me see what’s taking Peter so long.” Felicity winks at us—again. She’s very winky. Her nose scrunches as she leaves us standing in her massive living room. Alone.
“Roman—” I’m about to tell him how dumb I am. I am a literal mess when it comes to this woman, claiming Roman and I don’t touch, saying the word cute one too many times. I’ve lost it. When?—
“That’s my brother, Stell.” He peers down at me, and his blue eyes are glassy like still, shining waters. “Did you feel it?”
I squeeze his hand in mine. “Feel what?”
“Mason came out, walking all ridiculous. And I felt it. That little guy is mybrother.” He says the word brother like it’s sacred. “Did you feel that with Brice?”
I nibble on my lip, and because I have vowed never to lie to my husband again, I answer honestly. “Not really. At least, not until he was gone. I longed for him. There was this invisible string that tied me to Brice and only Brice and someone had severed it. It was like I didn’t know what I had until I’d lost it. With you, you didn’t realize what you had until you found it.”
“Exactly.” He runs a hand over the bristles of his shortbeard. “Things with my dad have been strained for years. But Mason isn’t my dad. I should have come sooner.”
“You’re here now,” I say, wrapping my arm around his back. He follows my lead and pulls me into an embrace.
“I thought you two didn’t do hugs,” Felicity says, and we tear away from one another.
“We don’t,” I spat. “Not normally. Roman was?—”
“Choking.” Roman lifts his brows, his tone dry. “I’m fine now.”
“You don’t do hugs?” says a handsome man with salt-and-pepper hair walking up next to Felicity—Roman’s father, Peter Graves. “That sounds like something your mother would say.”
Roman stiffens beside me, and a grunt falls from his lips. “Just when it came to you.”
Peter scoffs. “That’s accurate. You don’t hug your wife, Roman?” Peter says, peering at me. “That’s a shame.”
Forty-Eight
“Actually, I do hug my wife.”My arm tightens around Stella. “Sorry, Felicity. I wasn’t trying to be dishonest,” I say, taking credit for Stella’s claim that we don’t touch. “I hugmywife,nobody else’s.” Sure, maybe I’m trying to draw a line between me and my father. He’s on one side, and I am on the other. We are not the same. Mom always said he slept with his secretary, and Dad always denied it. I never knew who to believe. I only knew that my father had left. He left, and he didn’t care that he’d abandoned me.
But Dad doesn’t seem to notice my jab. Maybe because it has no merit, or maybe because he chooses not to. He was always good at only seeing what served him.
Surprising me, he steps forward, holding out one hand. “It’s nice to see you, son.”
